


A Boleyn Prince

by houlihiggs



Category: The Other Boleyn Girl - Philippa Gregory, The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Birth, Bloody, Brother/Sister Incest, Poison, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2755361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houlihiggs/pseuds/houlihiggs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Winter of 1536, Anne begins to bleed out her last hope for any power over Henry VIII. But instead of miscarrying, Anne gives birth to a premature but healthy baby boy. The trouble is, there was never supposed to be a Boleyn prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Boleyn Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks "LadyDeforte" for the beta read! All other mistakes are my own.

The dark, hot air of Anne’s chamber is stifling. The air is thick with the wet smell of sweat and the alkaline scent of blood that has by now soaked through the bed and dampened the lavender rushes scattered throughout the room. In the flicking light of the fire, stoked dangerously high to ward off the night, I can see glimmers of the gown Anne had been wearing before she began to bleed. A virgin dressed in white and silver embroidered with diamonds and pearls. The shell of that gown now lays on the floor, dotted with blood from the moment when she began to lose another child. It lays soiled and glinting still and so far away from the coming tragedy of it’s mistress. Or so we thought. 

On the bed Anne writhes with the pain of a child forcing itself into the world before it’s time. Her long black hair was soaked and stuck to her skin like a sweating horse. Her eyes, used for playing coy tricks and alluring Henry, reflected the black night back from the window. They were like two pieces of glassy coal. I shuddered. 

“Mary! I can’t, I can’t do this. I will die! What then? Help me!” She cries out as she pulls at the sheets lashed to the sides of the bed like a woman gone mad.

Helplessly I glanced at my mother for support. In the chaos of the chamber, maids running to fetch sheets and water, nurses perpetually cooing and mixing herbs, I spot her by the window. As far away as possible from the bed she has made her residence in a corner of the room. She appears to be reserved to observe the outcome of the birth and then to decide which role she shall fulfill, either mother or courier. A predatory bird of a woman. Silently I cursed myself for hoping that for a moment she would be capable of thinking of anything but the fortunes of the Howard family. Fearful and clumsy I scooted over the wet rushes and through the gangs of nurses to the bedside of my venomous, beloved sister. 

“Calm yourself Anne. You will gain nothing by frightening yourself. Remember Elizabeth, remember the pain of that. And she is a beautiful, healthy baby!”

“Pray God this is a boy” she hissed in reply. She gave another shriek as if the very Devil himself was searing her insides. I feared that this wasn't far from the truth. In a final, gurgling cry and a rush of fluid the baby slid out of her onto the crimson sheets. Anne fell back into her seed pearl embroidered cushions heaving and moaning. 

A nurse scooped up the tiny pink shape while another ran to gather fresh sheets and rushes for Anne. Absentmindedly, I placed the cool back of my hand against her burning forehead. What is is? Is it alive? Is it a girl…a monster? What lengths Anne had gone to in order to get this baby I will never know. Whatever it may be, I silently prayed that it would at least be alive and enough to quell Henry’s cooling towards Anne. The baby screamed and cried with a noise like ice shattering on the frozen lake. Perhaps our Spring had finally come. 

“Lady Anne!” a nurse exclaimed, forgetting for a moment that the usurper before her was actually Queen of England, “It’s a healthy baby boy!” 

Our mother, swift as a bird of prey, rushed to the bedside of Anne. I was roughly shoved aside as our mother reached out and scooped up Anne’s hot face in her hands and kissed her in a gesture I had never witness from her stone heart. She murmured to Anne in low comforting tones intermixed with barking orders to the maids who simpered about the room. 

“You’ve done it Anne. We are very pleased with you”. 

Uncomfortable with this strange show of affection I shifted from foot to foot, desiring to be anywhere but in this room. 

“Queen Anne, may I excuse myself.” Anne, as much of a whiplash as ever studied me with her dark eyes. 

“Yes you may. Go tell George, tell uncle, tell whoever you damn well please. I have given England a prince and you, you fat cow will now forever be in my shadow”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“I shall name him George” she whispered. 

Pleased with herself for winning the ultimate victory turned her gaze away from me. Unaffected I turned and walked from the chamber. I paced myself until I was out of earshot and then found myself running down the hall. I ran the rest of the distance to the doors into the Queen’s receiving rooms half in excitement for the rising star of my family and half in blind fear from the monster that is my sister. If this won the King’s favor then she would, once again, hold all of the cards. She would be capable of doing anything within her desire with the backing of the King. I realized for the second time that night that I may never see my son again. 

The doors swung open by their own accord and I found myself facing my brother’s chest. He took one look at my pale face and hissed in a low voice,

“What, what it is. It’s died hasn't it? Oh god I hope it has.” His voice was low, low enough that only I could hear it but the shock on my face would have been obvious to anyone with eyes. His face looked surprisingly calm for what he was suggesting. 

“George?” He took a step back and checked himself upon realizing that my gaze, and the gazes of a room full of dazing courtiers, was fully upon him. We were all questioning, wondering what would come out of his mouth next. Straight, tall, and comely once again he shifted into his courtier voice and spoke loud enough for all to hear,

“What news of our beloved Queen?”

“She has born the King a healthy baby boy! A Christian prince!” For a moment I allowed myself to overlook George’s behavior and indulge in the first favorable outcome this family has had since Anne gained her crown. The room had erupted into a delirium or excitement and celebration as the court shuffled out of the chamber to tell the King. A mass of rustling satin, silk, and velvet gowns offset the chattering of voices and the clicking of feet on stone. In less than a moment the room was cleared as some of the King’s favorites playfully raced to see whom could reach the King first. I was left alone with George and with the painful fear that there had been something more sinister than concern in his voice. 

“George, we should tell Uncle. He’ll want to be the first to know this news if he doesn't already. I’m sick of this whole thing and I want to be with William. Please God let us get this over with so I may see my husband.” 

As I began to step towards the door, George gently grabbed my hand to stop me. His face was pallid and his eyes looked as though he might cry. They were glazed and far away from this place. 

“George, what is it. Tell me.”

“It’s that…It’s…this wasn't what was meant to happen. That thing should not have been born. That..thing should be dead.”

“Dead?” as I repeated those words I swallowed on a dry throat. My mouth filled with cotton and forming words became impossible,

“What have you done?”

“I helped Anne get that thing on her and it will be a sin I will carry with me to the gates of Hell. We will both be condemned for it.”

My mind swam. What could he have possibly done to cause himself so much misery?  “Witchcraft? Potions? Wise women? Other men? What, what could you have possibly done! whatever it is, it doesn't matter!”

“No” was all he could manage. 

He stared at me and refused to say anymore. My head swam and my ears pounded. The crying baby prince a hall over was his child. Their child. The premature prince that was able to somehow live though his mother’s hemorrhaging womb was his son. 

“The wine you gave Anne to calm her after the argument with the King…”

“Poisoned. I never meant to hurt Anne, only to void her of that atrocity of our making. Mary she seduced me, she told me how dearly she loved me. She poured poison in my ear and promised me the world. I drank and made myself believe that I was doing what was right for our family. A wise woman gave me the drink to void her. Oh Mary. I cannot live with myself or her or anyone anymore.”

“George, you can’t! How could you do this!” I took a step back and caught my hand on a wine glass. It went tumbling to the floor and shattered into a thousand glittering knife points. 

“You should be strung up for what you have done. If this gets out neither man not God can forgive you for your sins. I don't care how careful you were, someone knows, someone has been paid off and if you don’t leave you will be in the tower before the week is out. You know for damn sure that Anne will not lift a finger in your defense if the accusation of poisoner is unleashed against you much less incest. Henry will forgive Anne for the sake of his prince but you, you will never be forgiven. I will never forgive you.”

George gripped a chair for support. He looked at me through his hair with eyes like Anne’s; unrelenting, beautiful, and desperate. In a swift motion he knocked the chair to the ground and turned from me. I watched my brother leave, wishing with all my heart that I could forgive him for attempted murder, for incest, for all of it. Anne was to blame for seducing all of us with her vision of a crown and a place for each of us at the high table as dukes and duchesses. No such luck. No one escaped the flirting gaze of Anne and the seductive turn of her head. We would never be free. 

More than ever I wanted to be with William and my children. I left the Queen’s rooms, I left the shattered glass still strewn across the floor, I left Anne. Come daybreak I would be forced to come back to court by her desire and dance this ugly dance of flattery and courtship until perhaps the day came when either man or God is able to tear her from her perch. Stepping lightly I found William waiting outside the chambers. I could see in his eyes nothing but my own reflection. I was with my family. 

The next morning I stood by Anne’s bedside and watched her rise from her sleep with a temper like a hurricane and the knowledge that, with a boy in the nursery, all would have to bow down to her will. Elegantly dressed with hair that shown like polished metal and a gown of brilliant red she slithered into her presence chamber. With a smile that could seduce the Devil himself she settled her gaze on an unsuspecting, milky Jane Seymour. The Queen’s teeth barred in a pearly smile, hands neatly at her sides with polished claws ready to rip and gore Jane’s simpering little face.


End file.
